Cry Wolf
by xVampyraxHavocx
Summary: Werewolves were built to survive, not to love. Monsters were meant to be feared, not admired. The bond of a family, a pack, is as strong as it gets. There were no other attachments outside; not for Derek Hale. Fate, however, had other plans. A woman by the name of Bethany Joy McCall enters his life and changes everything he ever thought he knew.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****_I don't own Teen Wolf, the actors or any of the other characters you may recognize which may be mentioned. I do however own the changes in plot and my original characters. This won't be exactly like the show for obvious reasons. This is purely for entertainment reasons, with that said enjoy and make sure to subscribe and review. I appreciate all feedback!_**

**__****A/N p.s: __****This story is based on my one-shot titled "Beauty and the Beast". :]**

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**Cry Wolf: Chapter 1  
**_written by: xVampyraxHavocx_

Bethany Joy McCall's tempting ochre glossed pout released a thwarted sigh, warm cappuccino irises searching relentlessly through the fallen autumn leaves. The squish of damp earth under the young woman's beige boots interrupting the silence along with the occasional snapping of twigs. The teenager's sense of direction was hopeless; she could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. Scott McCall, the woman's younger brother, had astonishingly managed to lose his inhaler in the abysmal depths of Beacon Hills' eerie forest. Due to the young woman's considerate nature, she volunteered to accompany her younger sibling and his best friend in their mission to find his medication. The young man was a severe asthmatic, finding the medical aid was essential. Faint male voices reached her ears, alerting Bethany of the boys' whereabouts. Quickly jogging over to them, a sloshing pierced the momentary quiet as she frowned, there was no way _this_ much mud would come off her favorite pair of brown Suedette Cowboy Boots.

"My body is flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something." Scott McCall stated, releasing an apprehensive sigh.

"You know what? I actually think I've heard of this. It's a specific kind of infection." Stiles, his best friend, replied shoving his strong hands within his denim pockets; dark eyebrows furrowing together in sarcastic knowledge.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Yeah." The sheriff's son replied; placing his strong hands on his jean clad hips. The journey came to a screeching halt as both boys stopped in their tracks. "I think it's called Lycanthropy."

"What's that? Is that bad?" Scott inquired, panic translucid in his deep voice. Bethany's warm dazzling cappuccino irises rolled, the beginning of a smirk creeping across her plump beige glossed lips.

"Oh yeah, it's the worst, but only once a month."

"Once a month?"

"Mhmm. On the night of the full moon." Stiles replied, releasing a howl mockingly causing Scott to shove his friend in annoyance. "You're the one that heard a wolf howling."

"There could be something seriously wrong with me."

"I know! You're a werewolf!" Stiles released a deep chuckle, raising his strong hands in a threatening manner as if they were claws, a growl erupting from his plush lips. The conversation died down as Scott's perplexed dark chocolate eyes took in the group's surroundings. The teenager glanced in all available directions, obviously bewildered as to why no one had encountered his inhaler yet. According to the nerve wrecking memory of the night before,_ this_ exact location had been where he'd lost possession of his medication. The verbal recollection of the night's events disconcerted the young woman's mind. _There are no wolves in California_, Bethany thought as she watched her younger sibling crouch in a kneeling position, strong hands grasping a few damp wilting leaves.

"What're you doing here?" A deep raspy voice inquired, the rustling of leaves starling the young woman to the mysterious male presence. "Huh? This is private property." Bethany's warm cappuccino irises took in the stranger's every feature. He was_ incredibly_ good looking. He appeared to be about six feet tall, a form fitting navy blue cotton t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame accompanied with a fashionable charcoal leather jacket, worn boot cut denim jeans, midnight cropped hair, intense vivacious olive green eyes, strong clean shaven statuesque facial structure.

"Uh, sorry man. We didn't know." Stiles replied, the group completely caught off guard to the hostile young man.

"Yeah, we were just looking for something but forget it." Scott replied, subconsciously taking a step in front of his sister in a protective manner. No one knew what the hostile stranger would do, and he wanted to make sure his sister would be safe. An agonizingly long moment passed before the stranger shoved a strong hand in his midnight leather jacket, tossing something in Scott's direction. _His inhaler_. The stranger's brash olive green eyes caught sight of the young woman, a strange stir within the depths of his toned stomach making him uneasy. She was absolutely _beautiful_. She possessed a petite frame; his guess was that the girl was no taller than five feet three inches. Lengthy raven tendrils flowing meticulously in loose ringlets over her narrow shoulders, mesmerizing milk chocolate gold flecked irises, perfectly crafted button nose, plump beige glossed lips, soft modelesque jawline. The beauty's features possessed an attractive feline characteristic. It may have been an extremely inappropriate observation, but his cryptic cold willow irises noticed the beautiful woman had a _killer_ body; a sleeveless figure-fit rose and coal plaid blouse tied strategically under the beauty's voluptuous bust, top button undone enough to make him uncomfortable, short denim shorts hugging her shapely hips. This beautiful young girl had the kind of enticing curves that made men drool. Without another word, he turned around and stalked off in the opposite direction doing everything within his power to shake the image of the young girl from his mind as he did so.

"Alright, c'mon I gotta get to work." Scott stated, shoving his inhaler in his jean pocket as he grasp his sister's hand. The eerie way in which the stranger stared at his older sister made him nervous, clasping the young woman's dainty hand tightly in his in a desperate attempt to keep her as close as possible. He was the man of the family; it was his duty and his privilege to keep her safe. He loved her. She and their mom meant everything to him.

"That was Derek Hale. You guys remember, right?" Stiles inquired. "He's only like a few years older than us."

"Remember what?" Bethany questioned, glancing timidly in the direction the stranger had been moments ago.

"His family. They all burnt to death in a fire like ten years ago."

"I wonder what he's doing back." Scott inquired hypothetically, not entirely sure he was in dire need to know the answer. Bethany's impertinent milk chocolate gold flecked irises intuitively glimpsed over her narrow shoulder, a conquering urge to see the handsome stranger one more time, the young woman took her supple bottom lip between her straight pearly white teeth. He was gone. Derek Hale's heavy footsteps came to an abrupt halt, strong muscular frame releasing an impulse driven tremble. A haphazard beating reverberated within Derek's sensitive ears, the masonry within his steel ribcage pulsing to the bizarre rhythm. The heartbeats where syncing; two effervescent muscles drumming to the same rhythm in a tune all their own. An expeditious heave jerked internally; strong hand grasping for a massive oak tree beside his body, Derek's chapped lips parted releasing a distressing gasp. The longer he stood there, fingernails digging in the dry callous bark, a desolate agony spread through his supernatural veins like wildfire.

Derek Hale's baffled olive green irises widened, the ravenous internal monster savagely clawing at the masonry so meticulously built around his steel heart. As quickly as the unexpected torment began, the misery vanished, oddly enough, the unfathomable void remained. The unintelligible savage lurking beyond the surface crept within the depths of his bewitched olive green eyes, an ice blue pigmentation spreading through the iris like an infection. Years of self-control, discipline, and preparation demolished by a moment of impetuous animalistic urge. Derek's dark eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, muscular frame standing straight once more; the young man did what he knew best. He _ran_.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Special thanks to Monkeygonetoheaven and Marine76 for the reviews! Also, thank you to those that are now following me. Let me know what you think! I enjoy hearing your thoughts. :) ****_  
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**Cry Wolf: Chapter 2  
**_written by: xVampyraxHavocx_

"Get in here." The sheriff's son's deep voice instructed hoarsely. The McCall siblings reluctantly obliged, exchanging a disconcerted glance. A burdensome melodramatic tension consumed the atmosphere of the entire teenage boy's room; the shuffling of brittle textbook pages interrupted the overcoming dead air. Stiles' exceptional warm honey-brown irises scrutinizing the meticulously typed myth, dark eyebrows furrowed together in an earnest distress. "You gotta see this." The young man stated, closing the door behind his friends. "I've been up all night reading websites, books, and all this information."

"How much Adderall have you had today?" Scott inquired humorously, a handsome smirk creeping across his strong features. Bethany bit her supple bottom lip, suppressing a chuckle at the sheriff's son's expense.

"A lot, doesn't matter." Stiles' replied sarcastically, the shuffling of paper piercing the momentary silence. "Okay? Just listen." The young man spun around in a midnight leather desk chair, strong hands clutching a paper neatly printed with mythological art in a white-knuckled grasp.

"Is this about the body?" Scott inquired, the siblings taking a seat at the edge of Stiles' bed, gauging the young man's facial structure for some sort of clue as to his hysterical behavior. "Did they find out who did it?

"No, they're still questioning people, even Derek Hale." Stiles informed dismissively. Bethany's milk chocolate golden flecked irises eclipsed, memory of the handsome stranger clawing maliciously to the forefront of her thoughts. A bizarre fluttering churning within the depths of the young woman's athletic core.

"Ah, the guy in the woods we saw the other day." Scott replied, nodding in the accidental association with the hostile stranger from the depths of the abysmal Beacon Hills woods.

"Yeah, yes, but that's not it, okay." Stiles shouted, waving his strong hands in the air dismissively. The mythological art shuffling against the violent gesture.

"What then?" Bethany's melodious gentle-natured voice questioned delicately, dark eyebrows furrowing in a blurred bewilderment. Scott's best friend was behaving in a maelstrom ridden frenzy, warm dark honey-brown irises widened to massive proportions, broad shoulders hunched, strong hands clutching relentlessly to the printed paper within his tightening grasp.

"Remember the joke from the other day?" Stiles inquired, a strained laugh escaping his plush lips.

"Not a joke anymore." Scott's perplexed dark chocolate eyes took in the utter fright in his best friend's warm honey-brown irises, releasing a deep exhale before glancing over at his sister. Bethany was equally as relinquished as he. "The wolf, the bite in the woods."

"I started doing all of this reading. Do you even know why a wolf howls?" Stiles inquired, dark eyebrows knit together in an exasperated concern. Genuine apprehension brewing within the depths of the sheriff's son's warm honey-brown eyes, the bizarre situation threatening to consume the teenagers in a world of supernatural curses lingered on the sheets of paper within Stiles' iron tight grip.

"Should I?" Scott asked, bewildered tenebrous cappuccino irises gazing up at his best friend at a complete loss of words.

"It's a signal, okay. When a wolf's alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard a wolf howling, that means there could have been others nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of 'em."

"A whole pack of wolves?"

"No, werewolves." Stiles replied, an awkward tension consuming the bedroom at the sheriff's son's theory. Bethany released a heavy exhale, manicured fingers pinching the bridge of her perfectly crafted button nose. The tension thickened to sickening proportions, each youth contemplating the unrealistic conclusion. _There's no way_, Bethany's thoughts concluded hastily.

"Are you seriously wasting our time with this?" Scott spat harshly, standing from his seat beside his sister. Stiles' twin sized mattress shifting from the severe movement. "You know I am picking up Allison in an hour."

"I saw you on the field today, Scott, okay." The sheriff's son replied dismissively, strong hand reaching out to cease movement on his best friend's part. The young man's warm honey-brown irises became pleading, dark eyebrows knit together in a firm determination. Scott _needed_ to hear this. "What you did wasn't just amazing, alright? It was impossible." The sheriff's son released an awkward chuckle, a negative habit that seemed to consume the socially inept teen as he acted in an impulsive manner to ease some of the overwhelming tension.

"Yeah, so I made a good shot." Scott replied dismissively, taking a step toward the bedroom door.

"No." Stiles stated sternly, standing in his friend's way in an attempt to force the conversation on a surreal path. In the teenager's mind, there were no other explanations for the gravity defying athletic promise that his friend had suddenly shown during try-outs. "You made an incredible shot! I mean, the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes, people can't just suddenly do that overnight; and there's the vision, and the senses and don't even think I don't notice that you don't need your inhaler anymore."

"Okay!" Scott asserted, instantly putting a stop to his friend's incessant determination. "Dude, I can't think of this now. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Stiles exclaimed. "What, no! The full moon's tonight. Don't you get it?"

"What're you trying to do? I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?"

"I am trying to help." Stiles replied, a smoldering hurt brewing within the depths of his warm honey-brow eyes. Bethany's milk chocolate gold flecked irises absorbed the escalating situation, she understood her baby brother's annoyance with his best friend's incessant meddling but Stiles genuinely believed the words coming out of his mouth. In reality, there could be no truth to what the sheriff's son's theory, she knew that, but it was abnormally harsh of Scott to completely disregard his friend altogether. There was no witty humor filled comebacks to the absurd statements, only harsh reality filled bitterness. "You're cursed, Scott. You know, and it's not just the moon that'll cause you to physically change. It also happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak."

"Bloodlust." Scott repeated, the unmitigated animosity in the one word caused his sister to cringe. The behavior was so unlike the teenager, he was normally so patient with his best friend.

"Yeah, your urge to kill."

"I am already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles." Scott replied in a monotone passive aggressive manner. _The calm before the storm_, Bethany concluded almost immediately.

"You have to read this." Stiles stated, the shuffling of paperwork piercing the momentary silence as he grasp a tattered aged brown book with worn covers. "The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse, alright. I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date." Stiles stood from his seat, struggling with the zipper on Scott's backpack. "You have to call her right now."

"What're you doing?"

"I am canceling the date."

"No, give it to me!" Scott growled maliciously, shoving Stiles against the bedroom wall in a fit of rage. A startled gasp escaped Bethany, the teenager rushing to the younger boy's aid as her manicured fingers grasp her baby brother's sweatshirt in a white knuckled grasp. Scott released a guttural growl, swinging his muscular arm shaking his sister's grasp as he knocked the computer chair to the ground in a fit of rage.

"I-I am sorry." Scott apologized, guilt swarming the depths of his toned stomach at the fear and shock on both faces staring wide eyed at him. "I gotta go get ready for that party." He stammered, glancing between his sister and his friend. "I am sorry." He apologized again, dark eyebrows knit together in a silent plea for forgiveness before he left the bedroom without another word.

"Are you okay?" Bethany inquired, rushing over to sheriff's son in the blink of an eye. Bethany took Stiles' face within the palms of her dainty manicured hands, thumbs brushing nimbly over the supple flesh of the youth's cheeks. Stiles' strong hands grasp hers, renouncing the affectionate gesture of concern dismissively. Had the affectionate gesture taken place any other time, he would have welcomed the contact without a second thought. However, at the current moment, he felt betrayed. Scott, his best friend, not only refused his help but contemplated physically hurting him in the process. A disgruntled huff escaped his plush lips, the young man straightened up his desk chair in an aggressive fashion.

"I'll talk to him, okay?" Bethany released a sullen sigh. "Everything will be alright, St-" All rational thought completely dissipated as Stiles slowly turned the leather computer chair around, revealing three deep gashes along the fabric. _Claw marks_.


End file.
